


Issues

by edibleflowers



Series: Only God Knows Why [1]
Category: Popslash
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is jealous. The question is, of whom?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Issues

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the "Only God Knows Why" series. This one is set in Germany. Mmm, I love me some baby!Sync.
> 
> This series revolves around a concept that all five of the guys are sleeping together, as well as with a girl (Kristen) who's been friends with them for years and travels with them. These are listed in chronological order by story (not by date written).

"You're sleeping with Kristen," Chris says without preamble. Joey looks up, swallows his mouthful of cereal, and nods. It seems useless to deny it after Chris just walked in and sat down, pulling the letter Joey's reading -- one from his sister that came three days ago, that Joey's already read three times -- out of his hand. Chris's face is smooth, unruffled, but his eyes are dark.

"What the fuck, Joey?" he demands.

Joey only blinks at Chris for a long moment before carefully responding. "I'm not seeing the issue here."

"Issue?" Chris stands up, and from the way his foot is thumping, Joey can tell there's something more going on. They've been around each other enough now that Joey finds Chris easy to read, although he and Justin seem to be the only ones. He kind of likes that. "Issue?" Chris repeats, his voice strident. "You're fucking Kristen. I think that's an issue."

"So is JC," Joey points out calmly, and finds himself becoming more amused when Chris's face goes red. "Why aren't you yelling at him? Hell, you want to get technical about it, they were sleeping together for a month before I joined in. And they invited me. This isn't like we're forcing her or some bullshit, Chris."

"How can you just--"

"Disrespect her?" Joey asks. Chris nods jerkily. "Dude, I don't know what you think is going on, but we're not. Have you asked her? She's the one who made the moves on C. If you're upset, Chris, at least don't be upset about that. Can I have Janine's letter back?"

Chris tosses the letter at Joey, who has to scramble as pages go flying, and stomps back to the back of the bus, where, Joey knows, Lance and Justin are engaged in a Street Fighter marathon. Joey gets everything reorganized and finishes his breakfast thoughtfully.

* * *

Two days later, in Munich, they go out dancing. As usual, it's Joey and Chris who instigate it; Justin pleads to be included, but Lynn reminds him, not unkindly, that he has homework and needs sleep because they have a double showcase tomorrow. Lance is already studying, so that leaves JC and Kristen, both of whom are up for it, and it isn't long before the four of them are dressed and making their way to the place Chris has heard about.

It's loud and dark and Joey can't understand more than one word in ten, but that's fine; he didn't come to talk. He gets beer for everyone and then they hit the dance floor. Kristen divides her time between the three of them, though 'N Sync is definitely popular enough by now that all three have their share of feminine attention and then some.

Joey has befriended a pretty blonde and is attempting to chat her up in his lame, stuttering German, when he happens to glance up and catches Chris's eyes on him. Chris looks away hastily, making it rather blatantly obvious that he's trying to pretend he wasn't looking. Joey grins, suddenly, and realizes he knows what the issue is after all.

Magda is offering him a blow job in a back corner of the club, though, and Joey has never been one to turn down a blow job.

* * *

JC finally pries them out of the club several hours later, reminding them about the showcase, and, grumbling, they finish their drinks and stumble outside. The night is cooler, and Joey wraps an arm around Chris's shoulders as they lazily amble, en masse, back through the streets towards the hotel. Chris shrugs him off; grinning, Joey pulls him close again. "Stop being such a grump," he says.

"I'm being bitter and melancholy. Leave me the fuck alone," Chris says.

Kristen turns around, looking over her shoulder at them; she and JC are walking arm-in-arm, and Joey knows they're going to be spending the rest of the night together. "Cut it the fuck out," she tells Chris, her eyes snapping. "Haven't you given everyone enough grief?"

"Kiss my ass," he tells her, and JC cracks up while Kristen makes smooching sounds at him. He calms down, though, and doesn't push Joey's arm off his shoulders again.

When they get back to the hotel, JC and Kristen make a break for the elevator, making it in and shutting the door before Chris and Joey can follow them. Chris pounds on the doors, but he's not angry, and Joey laughs at him as he pushes the button to summon the other elevator.

"Bitches," Chris mutters, and sags into Joey's warmth. Joey takes a breath, allowing himself a moment of anxiety: will his halfway-thought-out idea for the evening work? Then the elevator arrives, and he gives Chris a light push to get him moving again.

"Dibs on the bathroom," Chris says when they get to their floor and takes off running down the hallway. The door to Justin and Lance's room opens, and Chris changes course, jumping on Justin and hauling him down to the floor to tickle him. Joey takes the opportunity to sidle past them, unlocking their door and claiming the bathroom before Chris can finish his tormenting of Justin. He's pissing when Chris pounds on the door and yells, "You fucker! I dibsed!" and Joey convulses with laughter and nearly loses his aim.

After he brushes his teeth, he opens the door and pauses when he sees Chris sprawled out on one of the narrow beds. He'd expected Chris to be jogging around the room or something. He goes over to the bed; from this angle he can see that Chris's eyes are closed, his mouth open. "Chris," he says. There's no response. "Chris," he says again, and shakes Chris's shoulder. Chris rolls a little, smacking his lips and mumbling something incoherent.

He's like this, Joey knows; Chris goes from zero to sixty in under point two seconds, and it's true in reverse as well. Still, he doesn't want to be awoken by Chris stumbling around in the room at six a.m., so he kneels by the bed and gives Chris another little shake. "Come on, dude, wake up and go take a piss," he entreats Chris.

Chris's hand reaches out blindly, catching Joey's shoulder, and then his eyes open. "Hey," he says sleepily.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Joey smiles. "Bathroom's free."

"OK," Chris says. His eyes are soft and almost unbearably tender; then he sits up, runs a hand through Joey's hair -- still stiff with gel, since he's not going to shower until the morning -- and goes off to the bathroom. Joey smiles to himself. He's right, and now he knows it.

* * *

When Chris comes back out, Joey's stripped to his standard sleep clothes (an undershirt and boxers), and is sitting up in his own bed. He puts aside the magazine he's been flicking idly through and holds a hand out to Chris. "Come here," he says softly.

Chris is still pink, but he comes over and sits down on Joey's bed, by his hips. "Look," he says, "about the other day. I was an ass, and."

"Forget it," Joey says.

"Really?" Chris tilts his head, squinting a little at Joey. Joey has a brief vision of Chris in his glasses. He likes the image. "You're not mad."

Joey thought he was easier to read than that; he figured by now Chris would know that he doesn't carry grudges. "Nope. And I understand why you were upset. You were jealous."

"What? No." Chris flushes and pulls back, but Joey puts a hand on his wrist. "That's the most ridiculous thing I ever -- let me go, Joey."

"Not of me," Joey finishes. "Of Kristen."

Chris goes white, then, but Joey's shaking his head and leaning in, murmuring, "It's OK, Chris, you don't have to be," and then he kisses Chris. Chris resists for maybe half a second before he melts into Joey, hot and lithe and sleek against him. Joey finds himself on his back on the mattress, Chris over him, and doesn't remember how he got there.

"Not jealous anymore," Chris mumbles against Joey's throat. Joey groans his agreement. Chris's clever hands strip Joey of his shirt, and one delves into his boxers, exploring; Joey is helpless now beneath Chris, and when Chris slides down the length of Joey's body and his mouth closes over Joey's cock, Joey is lost, falling, gone. It's all he can do to fight it off as long as possible, because not only is it hot because it's Chris, but his mouth is incredible, hot and sweet and encompassing; and when Chris's fingers tease circles around his opening, Joey comes helplessly into his friend's mouth.

Once he's got his breath back, Joey returns the favor, using his own not-inconsiderable experience at fellatio to bring Chris to a mind-shattering orgasm -- at least, he's pretty sure it's mind-shattering, if Chris's shouts of "Jesus fucking Christ!" are any indication -- and by then he's hard again. When he licks his lips and leans up over Chris, his erection pressing into the heat of Chris's groin, Chris groans and reaches down, wrapping a hand around the stiff length.

"Just fucking fuck me, would you already, Fatone?" he demands. Joey laughs into Chris's shoulder before getting up to find supplies. He's got some KY that JC dropped in his bag last week, and the condoms are where they always are in his travel kit, so it's only a moment before he's back on the bed, leaning over Chris.

Chris is gorgeous in arousal, his skin flushed, lips glossy, eyes black with need. He skims a hand up Joey's arm and pulls him down for a kiss that lasts while Joey pours lube over his fingers; when Joey's index finger presses up into Chris, he's rewarded with a moan and Chris sucking on his tongue. Chris is eager, hot for it, and it's only a few moments before he breaks away, panting, "Please, fucking do it, Joey, fucking need you." Joey would like to spend a little more time watching Chris writhe on his fingers, but he's been waiting for this for so long -- a lot longer than a couple of days -- and so he heeds Chris's request, smooths a condom over his aching erection and eases his way into Chris's receptive body, into lush heat and a dense grip that makes Joey's head spin.

He takes it slow at first, savoring each thrust, drawing them out. It's almost more exciting to hear Chris's gasps, his soft cries, the wordless moans that eke from his throat, than the act itself; Joey loves it when his partners are vocal, and Chris is utterly responsive. When Joey twists his hips for a series of quick, sharp thrusts, Chris digs a hand into his shoulder and growls, and the low rippling sound of it is nearly enough to make Joey come right there. He presses his forehead to Chris's shoulder, instead, willing his orgasm back, and slips a hand between their lean, sweat-damp bellies to find Chris's renewed erection. There's something about the thick length of a cock in his hand that Joey's always enjoyed, but this is different, somehow, the awareness that it's Chris he's holding and stroking, Chris beneath him, moving against him in a perfect rhythm, Chris who's arching and crying out and lifting his head to nip at Joey's neck with sharp teeth.

Joey feels himself start to get close again. He's speeding up, he can't help it, his hips moving restlessly, and every time he pumps into Chris, Chris groans in a voice gone hoarse and scratchy. Joey doesn't want it to end, though, doesn't want this incredible moment to be over, and so he staves it off as long as he can, forcing his thrusts to remain slow and steady until Chris finally grabs his ass and hisses, "Jesus, Fatone, I can't take it anymore." Helpless, then, Joey lets go, surrendering to sensation, lost in Chris, in the heat of his body, pounding fast and hard until Chris gives a yelp and his whole body goes hotter as he comes. His orgasm takes Joey with it; Joey doesn't even try to stop it now, caught up in the intense grip of muscles, and he hears himself moan into Chris's neck as it rushes through him and leaves him limp, boneless, collapsed across Chris's trembling body.

"Holy fuck," Chris says, sometime later, and Joey nuzzles Chris's throat and doesn't move. "That was. That was, like, the hottest fucking thing ever."

"Not jealous anymore?" Joey teases, and is rewarded with a smack to the shoulder. He knows he'll have to get up soon to clean them off, but for right now, Chris is wrapped around him and neither of them are moving, and that's just fine with Joey. Joey knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this will be changing everything, but he has a feeling that it won't necessarily be a bad thing.


End file.
